


A Fool's Errand

by pdlbean



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 15:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12111465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pdlbean/pseuds/pdlbean
Summary: Jaime has arrived at Winterfell, and the White Walkers are coming. But he's a little more worried about a more immediate threat...





	A Fool's Errand

Jaime had been at Winterfell for nearly two weeks now. Word had come that the Wall was no more, which caused a tension and anxiety throughout the castle that was impossible not to notice. Some stragglers from the White Walker army had already arrived in the North, and the bulk of the horde couldn’t be far behind. The last several days had been a flurry of activity as everyone dashed about, preparing for the inevitable battles to come.  


Jaime, in all honesty, was thankful for the chaos. Ever since his arrival in the North, everyone in Jon Snow’s or Daenerys Targaryen’s service eyed him with suspicion. He supposed he couldn’t blame them. He was the Kingslayer, after all. Cersei’s brother and loyal commander. And her lover. He couldn’t deny any longer that their poorly-kept “secret” had not been hidden for a long time. But all of that was in the past. He wished to prove it to those he now fought beside, but he doubted there was much he could do on that front. His reputation was a strong one, and one he hadn’t exactly disproven over the years.  


Except to one person. Thank the gods Brienne was here. She was the one who vouched for him, who assured the others that his desire to help was genuine and he wasn’t luring them into some sort of trap. “I know Ser Jaime,” she’d said his first evening at Winterfell. “He is a man of his word.” That had sent a ripple of guffaws throughout the room, but Brienne didn’t flinch. Eventually, they’d relented and accepted her assurance, knowing her as an honorable woman and someone who knew Jaime better than anyone else there. Jaime owed her for that. Hell, he owed her for a great many things.  


Jaime stood in the courtyard of Winterfell, watching as people moved this way and that as they prepared for the coming battle. Soon, Jaime would have the chance to prove his worth to these men on his own, on the battlefield. He hoped his skills with his left hand had developed enough that he would be an asset to them, and not a burden. Jaime caught Brienne’s gaze from across the courtyard and he gave her a slight smile. She returned it with a small nod and walked over to him, dodging the flurry of bodies between them as they flitted this way and that. “The first large group of wights is said to be less than a day away,” she told him in lieu of a greeting.  


Jaime nodded. “I hope we’re ready.” The pair of them looked back at the activity in the courtyard. There was a buzz in the air, almost of excitement. Jaime felt the familiar tug in his stomach. The anticipation of a good fight.  


“We have good men,” Brienne assured him. “Including a great many who have already faced the White Walkers. If anyone has a chance, it’s this army.”  


“It should be bigger,” Jaime said, his voice heavy with guilt.  


“You did what you could,” Brienne said. “You’re here.”  


Jaime chuckled and held up his golden hand, which wore a leather glove. He very rarely took it off these days. “For whatever I’m worth.” Before Brienne could respond, she caught Tormund’s eye from across the yard. The red-headed wildling had arrived from the Wall only two days after the word of the disaster there reached them. He’d been broken and near death then. He looked much better now, yet he still hobbled on a broken leg he refused to let rest. He gave Brienne a look, raising his eyebrows and grinning at her toothily. She rolled her eyes and looked back to Jaime with an expression of disgust.  


“I don’t know what he wants with me,” she said with distaste.  


Jaime laughed out loud. “I do,” he told her with a scoff. Brienne’s eyebrows knit together and she seemed to study Jaime for a long moment.  


“You have something to say?” she asked, prodding him. The question made Jaime stutter uselessly for a moment.  


“Well… I just…” He managed to find his voice again. “He hasn’t much of a chance, has he? You’re a highborn lady and he’s…” He trailed off, not certain of the best way to finish that sentence. Brienne seemed amused by his response.  


“Have you ever known me to behave like a highborn lady?” Brienne asked him. Of course, Jaime hadn’t. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. And that was what he liked the most about Brienne. She was brave, honorable, and no one could deny her skill with a sword. The truth was, she was a lady. Just a different kind.  


Still, Jaime was confused by the statement. Was she truly interested in Tormund? If she was, he’d misread this entire situation and he couldn’t deny that the thought made his heart sink. “I… don’t think there’s a correct answer to that question,” he decided to say.  


Brienne smiled warmly at him. “I don’t have those sorts of feelings,” she promised. “Not for Tormund.” _Not for Tormund?_ Jaime thought.  


“Well, I suppose courting you is a fool’s errand,” he said, resorting to his usual defense mechanism, making jabs at her. Brienne’s smile grew and she took his good hand in hers. Gods, her hands were warm. How did she do that in this cold?  


“Then it’s good, Ser Jaime,” she said, giving his hand a light squeeze, “that you have always been a right bloody fool.”


End file.
